


Not the Murdering Type

by newboldtrue



Category: Red Velvet (K-pop Band)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Road Trip, F/F
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-06-22
Updated: 2018-07-05
Packaged: 2019-05-27 01:19:24
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 3
Words: 8,168
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15013562
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/newboldtrue/pseuds/newboldtrue
Summary: Two women, a car, a gun, and three state’s worth of police authority hot on their heels. It would have been easier if feelings weren’t so messy.A Thelma & Louise AU.





	1. i.

“You haven’t asked him yet? Seungwan, we’re leaving in an hour!”

Wendy winced, pulling the phone away from her ear a bit. She threw more socks into her luggage, and, with a shrug, tossed in an extra pair of shoes. “It didn’t come up in conversation! I’ll talk to him soon. Don’t worry, Joohyun, please--”

Irene rolled her eyes on her end of the call. She wiped her hands on her apron, swapping her phone to her other ear. “Don’t you ‘ _Joohyun, please,’_ me. Is he your husband or your father? You _are_ coming, aren’t you?”

“Of course!”

“Then act like it!” Irene snapped, and it might have become a heated argument if Wendy didn’t know about the smile on Irene’s face, couldn’t practically hear the expression.

“I have it under control. See you in an hour—and try not to miss me too much,” Wendy snorted, shuffling through her shirts. What did two best friends pack for a trip to the mountains?

Irene shook her head, begrudging affection lacing her tone. “I’m leaving with or without you, Seungwan, don’t test me.”

“Love you too,” Wendy grinned, and ended the call. She looked around her room, scanning for any last-minute things to pack—because really, who knew what they might need? She threw in a book, her hairbrush, and stared blankly at the small handgun her husband had given her, _“For when I’m gone,”_ he’d said. _“You’re always gone,”_ Wendy had muttered under her breath, and after that—well, she didn’t love remembering about it, really. With the pistol held gingerly between two fingers, she tossed it in her luggage, too. _What the hell, right?_

 

* * *

 

It wasn’t until forty-five minutes into the drive that Irene brought him up again. “So what did you tell him?” she asked, turning the radio down. She signaled to the right, taking an arbitrary exit to fill the tank.

Wendy had her head out the window, eyes closed. “Who?” she asked, absentmindedly, resituating herself properly in her seat. Irene hadn’t seen her look so relaxed in years.

Irene quirked a brow, following signs for the nearest gas station. “Your _husband?_ ”

“Oh, him,” Wendy said, and they both laughed because-- _that’s funny, right?_ “Well, you know. I just didn’t tell him.”

Irene nearly hit the curb as she pulled into the station. Mouth agape, she hissed, “You _what_?”

Wendy shrugged, still laughing. “What do you mean, ‘ _what?_ ’ He would’ve never let me come, and, to be honest, he probably won’t even notice I’m gone.” Irene pretended not to care about that, or how much better Wendy deserved, because she had been saying those same things since the day the man had proposed to her, and yet Wendy still wore the damn ring on her finger. She wondered if he knew how lucky he was.

She doubted it. He had no idea.

“I can’t believe you,” Irene replied, smiling a little to offset the sudden tension. She rolled down the window before getting out of the car. “What is he going to say?”

Her friend kicked back in her seat, rolling her eyes. “Whatever he wants. Nothing I haven’t already heard, I’m sure.” Wendy’s eyes slid past Irene, and she sat up suddenly, a dull twinkle in her eyes. “Wait.”

“Oh no,” Irene murmured, rifling through her wallet, letting the sound of gas entering the tank fill her hesitation. “What’s behind me?”

“A good time,” was all Wendy said, pointing.

Begrudgingly, Irene turned and stared warily at the sign. “ _Joy’s... Watering Hole_ ,” she read, apprehension growing with each syllable. “That sounds wrong on… multiple fronts,” she added. The neon sign was certainly bold, and the chalkboard listed quite a number of questionable items. A cartoon revolver winked, the speech bubble saying, _Play a round of Russian roulette shots! Will you get the tame whiskey, or the hot Bacardi 151?_ “‘Tame whiskey?’” She rested her forearms on the windowsill. “Seungwan, I’m not so sure…”

“We can finally let loose for once in our lives! Doesn’t that sound fun?”

“It’s a _bar_ , Seungwan. Since when did you like going to bars?” She sighed. “Maybe if we weren’t driving for another--” Irene checked her watch, “--four hours tonight.”

“Make it four hours tomorrow,” Wendy pleaded, and-- _shit_ , Irene’s never been able to say no to those eyes. “There’s an inn right across the street. It’ll be fun!”

 

* * *

  

Wendy squeezed her eyes shut after downing the fourth shot—which, at least, went down easier than the first three. Cringing, she bit into a lime slice.

“Any more for you girls?” asked the girl behind the counter, and Wendy couldn’t help her grin in response. She was cute, definitely, and Wendy hadn’t had fun in a long time. “What would you suggest?” she said, wiping her lips with her thumb.

The girl— _Joy,_ claimed her name tag, and Wendy wasn’t going to argue with that—unashamedly watched Wendy lick the remnants of salt from her hand. Her eyes slid to Irene next to her. “I would suggest you girls realize how many eyes are watching you tonight. Not often we see new faces around here. Visiting town?” Joy asked.

Irene shook her head. “Just passing through tonight.”

“Well,” Joy grinned, spreading her arms, gesturing grandly to the establishment. “You’re here, and now you’ve seen everything there is to see in this dump. Yeri—Yeri! Hey, Kim Yerim!” A girl on the other end of the bar, hands full with a towel and clean glass, glanced up.

Joy gestured for her to come over. “Visitors! Crazy, right?”

Yeri brought over the overly clean glass, snickering. “Unfortunate, more like.”

“Are you legal?” Wendy blurted, cringing at her words, but not taking them back. Next to her, Irene visibly cringed, too, and turned toward her.

“Seungwan,” she hissed, and slapped her arm. The sensation felt delayed. “You can’t just ask people that.”

“I meant about serving alcohol! Jesus, Joohyun.”

Yeri’s snicker turned into a hearty chuckle. Her elbow collided with Joy’s side, forcefully playful, or playfully forceful. “I like them, though.” She grabbed a bottle of beer in each hand, putting one in front of Irene, and then Wendy. “Can we keep them?”

Joy snorted. “For their sake, let’s not. And—oh, great.” Her eyes narrowed as she looked in the space between Wendy and Irene. She folded her arms, straightened her posture. “What do you want, pal?” she asked, voice raised and all amiability gone.  

Wendy felt Irene’s apprehension grow as she chose not to turn to look at the newcomer.

“I heard there’s some new sights to see,” said the man, and Wendy crossed her legs uncomfortably. “This seat taken?” he asked, one hand gesturing to the empty seat next to her, the other suddenly on Wendy’s shoulder.

“Yep,” Irene said, sliding her beer to the empty seat and moving to swap seats at the same time Yeri nodded and hopped over the bar.

He silently leveled his gaze at Yeri, who had thrown herself into the chair, then Irene, who was still standing, and then Wendy, his hand still lingering on her shoulder.

In response, Wendy raised her eyebrows, tilted her head, and pointedly brought her cup to her lips.

“Listen. I’m going to need more of this--” Irene held up an empty shot glass--“if I’m going to have to look at you all night, and I really don’t need more shots,” she said, carelessly putting the glass back down. She waved, smug when the man silently stalked off, his beer and ego depleted.

Wendy nodded appreciatively, putting down her glass. “Beautifully executed. Who was that?” The question was directed at Yeri, who was returning the beer to Irene’s hand.

“Bad news,” Joy explained with an exasperated eyeroll. “A real creep. We’ve tried to ban him more times than Yeri can count—“

“Hey!”

“—but local authority is having none of it.”

“Let me guess,” Irene sighed, “something about girls ‘asking for it,’ right?”

Joy let out her breath in a tired huff. “Yeah, guess it’s really just wishful thinking to assume the rest of the world is any different.”

“Yeah,” Irene said quietly, tapping her empty glass against the table.

“Let’s dance,” Wendy found herself saying, because she couldn’t bear to look at Irene in that state when they were at a bar, for god’s sake. She was already standing up, grabbing Irene’s hands and pulling her away.

“I think we’ve had a lot to drink,” Irene said, when her feet hit the floor and the world started spinning. Unfortunately for her, Wendy’s energy was contagious, and she wasn’t exactly putting up a good fight.

“Exactly my point. You’re the best dancer I know. Now come _on_.”

 

* * *

 

If Wendy was drinking to forget her problems, she must have been doing it right, because Irene has never seen Wendy dance like _that_ before. From the reactions she was garnering from the crowd, it was also clear that she was gathering the attention of more eyes than Irene had the patience to deal with. She really was too sober for this night--which wasn’t saying much at all, given that she didn’t feel any bit sober.

Later, when Irene would look back on this night, she’d recognize that thought as the first in a long series of mistakes.

 

* * *

  

Before she knew it (but admittedly, the whole night was foggy), Irene had become a broken record. “Have you seen my friend? Light brunette hair, bangs, black tee? About this tall? No?” Irene felt like she had scoured every inch of this crowded bar, asked every group of people. _Seungwan, where are you?_ She was assuming the worst, and that was enough to jolt her out of her haze. A gust of cold, fresh air hit her face as she throw open the back doors. Her heart dropped when she saw two figures hovering in the parking lot.

 

* * *

 

So maybe Wendy was a little tipsy, but she wasn’t drunk enough to not notice his wandering hands. She put her drink down on the hood of the car.

“Please don’t touch me,” Wendy said, steeling her voice and shoving away the man’s arm. “I’ve already asked you, leave me and my friend alone.”

“No big deal, sure,” the man said, moving his arms away, but not his body. “We can take it slow. Your friend can join us later, if she wants. You seem like the type to like sharing.”

Wendy raised a brow, feigning an unimpressed facade, damping the unsteadiness in her voice and the fear starting to pump through her blood. She pushed herself off the car, folding her arms in front of her, and, a distance away, Irene’s feet were moving before she even registered it. “Not interested,” Wendy was saying, as the guy slid into the space between her and the car. “I’m sure there’s other women in there who would love to have your attention,” she tried--Wendy was always taking the diplomatic route, and Irene didn’t have the patience for this.

“She said to not to _fucking_ touch her,” Irene said, stopping mere feet away from the two. The corner was secluded, and Wendy was used to looking at Irene, but she stared, wide-eyed, at the barrel of the gun-- _her_ gun--in her hands.

Her voice was no more than a whisper, throat caught on fear and adrenaline. “Joohyun?”

“You’re not going to shoot me,” he scoffed. He took Wendy’s drink, downing it for himself. “You’re both so full of shit—”

Two things happened at once: The man reached his arm out toward Wendy, an absolutely acridic leer on his face, and Irene pulled the trigger.

It wasn’t like what Irene had read in books, about things seeming to happen in slow motion. Before she could let out her breath, the man was on the floor, and Wendy was spattered with spots of his blood.

“Oh my god.” Wendy clapped a hand over her own mouth.

Joohyun still held the gun in front of her, unblinking. Her arms were still tense from the recoil, ears still ringing from the bang. The barrel smoked gently, like a fresh cigar. “Get in the car, Seungwan.”

“Oh my god, Joohyun, you shot him.”

“Get in the _car_.”

“Oh my--”

“ _Seungwan_.”

“S-sorry. Right, I… right.” Wendy mechanically opened the passenger door, getting herself into the seat with as much grace as a wooden doll. “Oh my god.”

Irene found herself stumbling backwards, bumping the back of her knees on another car. She stayed that way for a second, staring into the wide, unblinking eyes of the man, before climbing into the driver’s seat and shoving the pistol into the cup holder. “We have to go.” She pulled the car out of the lot, choosing an arbitrary direction to speed down the highway. The steering wheel shuddered, and Irene wasn’t sure if it was a bumpy road or if her hands were still shaking.

An indeterminate amount of time passed as both were too lost in their own thoughts to share. When Wendy finally found her voice, she whispered, “Where are we going?”

“You should tell me to go to the cops,” Irene murmured, instead of answering. She clenched her jaw, mind racing through words like _alleged_ and _convicted_ and _lifetime in prison._ “I should turn myself in.”

“You know why we can’t,” Wendy said. “No one would believe me. They’d say I was asking for it, or that I’d promised him something, or I’d dressed wrong. I’m so sorry, this is all my fault, I shouldn’t have...” Her voice faltered. “I’m so sorry.”

“‘We?’ You’re not--you don’t have to be a part of this. It’s not your fault.”

Wendy rubbed her face with her hands, sighing deeply through her fingers. Her voice was quiet, but firm in a way Irene had never heard before. “Don’t insult me, Joohyun. Where are we going?”

Irene glanced to her right, chest and grip on the steering wheel tightening. “Come again?”

“We can’t really go back, can we? It’s just you and me now.” Wendy still wasn’t looking at her. “Where are we going?”

The sky was darkening, and tall evergreens whipped past the windows. It was a long moment before Joohyun replied. “We could leave the country.”

“Okay,” Wendy said. “Sure.”

“Okay,” Irene echoed, and drove.


	2. act ii.

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> the thrill of the chase is—well, sometimes that's all there is.

Eventually, they found themselves in the women’s room of a quaint diner off the side of the highway, Irene wetting a paper towel in the sink. Her hands still shook, faintly. She wondered briefly if they would ever still again.

Irene gestured for Wendy to lean closer. She cupped Wendy’s chin gently, tilting her face toward the grimy, flickering light as she wiped away the dried specks of blood. The unsteadiness of her hands was either not noticed or consciously not commented on—for which, she was thankful. An intrusive thought passed her mind— _at least the blood isn't hers—_ and she had to clench her jaw at the idea.

“You don’t have to come with me,” Irene said again, focusing her gaze on the paper towel and not Wendy’s eyes. She tilted Wendy’s head again, wiping a spot on her neck.

The response was almost imperceptible. “Don’t make me go back alone.”

Irene breathed very slowly, cleaning off a smudge under Wendy’s chin. When she thought she might suffocate from the words lingering in her mind, she heedlessly let them out in a rush. “How far would you come away with me?”

Wendy didn’t hesitate. “To the edge of the earth, Joohyun.”

“I’m being serious.”

“So am I.”

Irene’s hand stalled, her eyes finally making their way to meet Wendy’s.

“I’m serious,” repeated Wendy, barely more than a whisper.

Irene pulled her hands away, suddenly unable to maintain the eye contact. “We—we’ll have to plan this out,” she said, thoughts a million miles per hour and stagnant at once. “I’m going to ask for a map from the—up front. I—you—“

Their conversation had become very hushed at some point that Irene hadn’t noticed. “We can get food. I’ll grab a table,” Wendy interjected, hurt flashing very briefly across her features. When Irene didn’t move, Wendy nodded her head toward the door. “Go ahead. We’re going to be okay.”

Typical, selfless Seungwan, to be reassuring her like this when it should have been the other way around. So Irene just nodded wordlessly, and Wendy watched her go out the doors like every other time she watched Irene leave—with a humorless smile on her lips, and a thousand words unspoken.

 

* * *

  

Later, in a more familiar backdrop with the sun shining down on a series of parked cars, three people leaned against a dark car, tone of voice not matching the topic at all.

“You think those two girls shot him?” Yeri laughed. “They were the nicest girls we met all night. All smiles. Plus, they’re tiny, wouldn’t have stood a chance in a fight. The two of them stacked on top of one another wouldn’t reach Sooyoung’s shoulder. What even makes you think they were out here starting shit?” She paused. “Plus, they gave a great tip.”

The officer shook his head, hands on his hips. “They’re the only ones that were seen with him last night. Seungwan’s husband said she left yesterday afternoon and never came home.”

“She has a _husband_?” Joy blinked. “Could’ve fooled me.”

The officer stared, not equipped to handle that comment as Yeri tapped her chin, exaggeratedly contemplative. “I do know two things for certain, sergeant. The first is that those girls aren’t guilty.”

He sighed, pulling off his sunglasses. “I need evidence, girls, not the flimsy word of my two favorite bartenders. What’s the second?”

“Well, the second is that I don’t know who did it, but it’s a damn shame I hadn’t gotten to him first,” Yeri laughed, leaning dangerously close the officer. “If you’d seen him as often as we do, you’d know what we meant. It could’ve been anyone—a past lover, the husband of a past lover, a total stranger looking for a fight—he’s not exactly a popular guy around here.”

“Come on, girls, got anything useful for me?”

Joy leaned in on his other side. “What kind of _things_ are you thinking, sergeant?”

“Sooyoung--one day, you’ll be serious when you say shit like that to me.”

She slapped the back of his head, knocking off his cap and beaming like a cat playing with its prey. “Oh, in your dreams, Henry. Get back to work. Send Captain Kang my best, would you?”

He waved with his fallen cap, sending them a wink before he slid his sunglasses back on. “Have a nice day, ladies. Give me a call if you find anything out, you know where to find me.”

“Trust me, Officer Lau! I'd be very surprised if they did it.” Joy called out as he walked away. “They’re just not the murdering type.”

 

* * *

 

Time somehow became unsubstantial after the first few inns and motels they checked into. Her foot on the pedal was starting to ache, and since the sun had gone down, Wendy was starting to suspect her arm closest to the window had gotten sunburnt. She couldn’t believe her brain still had the capacity to be annoyed by something like a sunburn.

“We’re going to need money soon,” Irene said, in the tone a person should use for doing the morning crossword, or inquiring about the weather. She was absentmindedly skimming the contents of her car’s glove compartment. “I don’t know what to do.”

The thought had crossed Wendy’s mind, too. She had run through a lot of potential scenarios, none of them reasonable. “We’ll figure it out,” she said, hoping it wasn’t a lie.

“How?” Irene murmured, holding an outdated map of the east coast, but not really looking at it. “Rob a bank? Shoot up a convenience store? What options do we even have, Seungwan?”

Wendy smiled faintly. “We’re not going to add ‘armed robbery’ to our list.” A shabby billboard for _‘The Best Inn in Town!’_ whipped by, and Wendy briefly thought it might be the _only_ inn in town. If it wasn't, she was concerned. “We can stop for tonight, get some ideas, and rest up.”

Irene nodded, folding up the map she hadn’t spared a glance at. She closed the compartment, leaning back in the seat. “How are you taking this so well?”

It wasn’t as if Wendy hadn’t gone through multiple stages of breakdown to get to this point, and she told Irene exactly that. “I figure, worrying isn’t going to do me any good,” she added, pretending she wasn’t always worried about something, _anything_ that could go wrong at any given moment. “And—hey, fake it ‘till you make it, right?”

That got a laugh from Irene. “Right. Fake being a convict until you are one. We have a bright future ahead of us.”

“You’re not a convict until you’re found guilty,” she pointed out, tone not coming out quite as lighthearted as she had intended. So instead of letting the conversation veer into the sobering territory, she took the exit for this so-called _Best Inn in Town._

 

* * *

 

It would have been quaint, maybe even cute, Irene thought, if the older and somewhat unpleasant man sitting in the lobby hadn’t been staring at her and Wendy since the moment they walked in.

As they waited at the desk to be checked into a room, Irene leaned toward Wendy’s ear, softly saying, “Don’t look, but that man has been staring at us this whole time.”

She wanted to slap her forehead as Wendy immediately turned, giving the man a polite smile and wave. Her arm was twisting Wendy back around, and she hissed, “What are you _doing?_ ”

Wendy had the audacity to look offended, and Irene was having none of it. “I’m being polite! We don’t need to be making enemies everywhere we go, too! Don't we have enough on our plate?”

“What are you up to?” Irene asked, narrowing her eyes.

“What?” Wendy scoffed, folding her arms. “Nothing! Why—”

“Please,” Irene muttered, voice rising drastically to thank the girl at the desk as she was told about the complimentary breakfast and the checkout time. Then her register dropped again, customer-service-persona long gone. “Just don’t get us into any more trouble than we’re already in, okay?”

She bit her lip, giving half a grin. Irene wished it weren't so contagious, because she was trying to be stern, here, and this wasn't helping. “Well—no promises, but I just have an idea. I won’t do it if you don’t want me to do it, just say the word.”

Irene stopped, looking at Wendy’s face. She reached out, fixed a few locks of hair that had fallen in front of Wendy’s eyes, and sighed. “You haven’t told me this idea that you may or may not be doing,” she said, letting her hand drop. “Am I going to like it?”

Wendy shifted her weight, and, _no, that means I’m absolutely not going to like it_ , she figured. “I think it’s going to help,” she said, instead of really answering the question. “I’ll let you know how it goes in the morning. Go ahead first, I’ll meet you in the room,” Wendy was saying, and Irene didn’t think she liked the sound of that.

But she trusted Wendy, so she was nodding and handing her the second room key, and then she was walking through the hallway alone to their room. With the amount of exhaustion lacing every fiber of her being, she wished she could have fallen asleep immediately.

It wasn’t until a few hours into the night, when Irene was on the verge of unconsciousness, that the bed dipped and a familiar warmth crawled in next to her—and Irene realized she had become accustomed to this. _What a twisted turn of events_ , she remembered thinking, as Wendy made herself comfortable, _to only be able to fall asleep next to her_.

 

* * *

 

Whatever Irene had expected to hear over her complimentary orange juice and bagel in the morning, it wasn’t that.

“He really didn’t have a lot on him, unfortunately, but here—” Wendy was saying, pulling a tattered envelope from her purse.

Irene didn’t move to grab it, and instead, stared at it blankly. She lowered her voice, although no one else was in the room. “Christ, Seungwan. Did you kill someone for that?”

Wendy looked affronted. “Of course not!"

“Seungwan, what did you—whose—what—”

“The creepy man from downstairs!” she explained, holding the envelope towards her. Irene continued to gape at it. “From yesterday?”

"No, right, I know who you mean, it's just—" Truly, she was at a loss for words, and her mind was jumping to a thousand conclusions. Wendy looked so _bright_ . If she didn’t kill him—“Oh my god. Did you _sleep_ with him?”

“He needed a little persuasion,” Wendy was saying, and _oh my god did Wendy just sleep with the creepy old man from downstairs,_ but then she added, “But I didn’t sleep with him!” A beat, and then, “Oh my god, I promise I didn’t. Who do you think I am?” When Irene still hadn’t fully formulated a response, Wendy sighed, tilting her head side to side in exaggerated contemplation before offering the vital piece of information, like a punchline to a joke. “And maybe I knocked him out with the bedside lamp. Maybe.”

Irene covered her face with her hands. “ _Shit_.”

“He’s also definitely in some sort of shady business deal, because he had a lot of cash on him. No normal person should carry this much. Thankfully, really, for us. But yeah, just so you know, that’s very possibly drug money. I don’t know if that was lucky or really, really unlucky, actually."

“Jesus _Christ_ , Seungwan.”

“Look,” she said, putting down the envelope and pulling Irene’s hands from her face. She rubbed the backs of her hands with her thumbs, and Irene let out a long, exhausted breath. “We needed money, and now we have money. What's done is done, right? We should just get out of here before he...” Her eyes flicked toward the ceiling as she seemed to scour her internal dictionary. "Well, before he... tells someone."

Irene had nowhere else to look, so she looked from the small fridge, to Wendy, to her plate. “Christ. Okay. right. Sure.” She looked at Wendy again. “You’re sure you didn’t sleep with him?”

Wendy snorted, and there’s the smile Irene had wanted to see. “ _No_ , god. Definitely not my type, anyway,” she added, cheeky, despite everything.

Irene rolled her eyes, trying to take all of this in stride, because what’s petty theft, next to murder? “What, shady criminal on the lam not strike your fancy?”

“A shady criminal on the lam _could_ strike my fancy,” Wendy grinned, crinkling her nose, “but definitely not that one.” She was looking at Irene, and whatever she was going to say next, she chose not to, because the bell above the door chimed pleasantly, and Wendy suddenly swore under her breath. She grabbed Irene’s hand, using it to point at the small group walking in—a woman and two men she didn’t recognize, clad in casual, fashionable outfits.

“Cops,” Wendy hissed, turning her body away from the entry. “You know I love our fun banter, but we have to go, _now_.”

“How can you tell?” Irene’s eyes were wide, her half-eaten bagel forgotten. She was already moving to stand, and Wendy pulled her back down, frantic.

“Shit, it’s Officer Kang.”

Irene was still reeling from their previous conversation, and she was about to implode from information overload. “You _know_ her?”

Wendy looked back at Irene. “Not personally, no. The creepy old dude hadn’t bothered to turn off his TV last night, and she was certainly the officer talking about the case she’s the head of. Two women on the run, black retro car headed south, wanted for questioning. Sound familiar?”

“That could be anyone,” Irene tried, helplessly. There was an approximate zero level of conviction in her voice. “And it’s just for questioning—”

“They’re coming this way,” Wendy interrupted, pulling Irene out of the seat. “We have to go.”

They got up, throwing their paper plates in the trash as casually as possible while walking twice a normal walking speed. 

“Hey, excuse me,” the other woman started, picking up her pace in time with Wendy and Irene. Irene's heart was beating through her chest, and it was impossible to act casual. She could hear blood rushing in her ears as the adrenaline kicked in. They were  _not_ going to be caught today. “Hey!”

Irene looked at Wendy, and Wendy looked at Irene. Irene nodded, and they both broke into a sprint for the back door.

“Dammit, why do they always run?” came a male voice, and a rapid group of heavy, clunking footsteps pursued Irene and Wendy down the hall. They burst through the double doors, Wendy scrambling into the driver’s seat, and, when Irene had half a foot in the car, she sped it out of the lot and onto the highway.

Irene couldn’t help but look back at the inn, and watched one of the two men hold out his pistol at the car. He was shouting something as he pointed the barrel at the body of the car, then a tire, then the rear window. She watched as the woman—Kang—shake her head vigorously, and then as the man holstered his weapon. As if she could see into Irene’s soul, the woman continued to stare as the car, unharmed and unpursued, receded into the distance.

 

* * *

 

His hand still on his holster, Henry asked, “Why aren’t we chasing them?”

Seulgi chewed on her bottom lip. “I don’t think they want to be caught.”

Henry and the other officer looked at the each other, a step behind Seulgi. “With all due respect, Captain—”

“Don’t be stupid, Henry,” she snapped, but not unkindly. Her dark fringe was beginning to reach past her brows, and she had to brush them out of her eyes. “I _meant,_ something tells me those two won’t be caught alive, if they can help it. I don’t want to force it to get to that point.”

The other two were silent for a moment, before the third snorted. “Yeah, Henry, don’t be stupid.”

Henry scowled. “Shut up, Jaehyun.” To Seulgi, he said, “So what? They’re wanted for murder. They’re not what I’d call, you know, ‘upstanding citizens’ or anything.”

Slightly miffed, the other grumbled, “I’m Mark,” which fell upon two pairs of deaf ears.

“They’re just people, and I think there’s more going on here that we’re not seeing,” Seulgi explained. She put her sunglasses back on. “You said it yourself—they don’t strike me as the type.”

“This isn’t some ‘oh, I forgot to buy the eggs!’ mistake, Captain. They killed someone. You saw their car—they brought so much with them. This might have been premeditated. We know they're armed, and that makes them automatically dangerous.”

“I know, Sergeant, Deputy,” she sighed, nodding at Henry and Mark. She unlocked the police car they had come in, opening the front door. “But I want their trial to be fair, and no one wins if those two are dead.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I do realize this short fic is a lot less linear and clear-cut than my other stuff. The movie worked really well cinematically, and I kind of wanted to emphasize that more than the overall narrative. Ironic, but it's been lingering in my head for days. As always, thanks for reading! One more chapter left after this.


	3. act iii.

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> it's "all's well that ends well," but they're not sure it had really gone well in the first place.

A few hours later and many miles south, Wendy and Irene were laughing at the corny puns and bad transitions during the local news report of wherever the hell they were. Irene was running her fingers through Wendy’s hair, braiding and unbraiding it mindlessly, and Wendy was trying her best not to touch the suspiciously sticky motel TV remote on the edge of the bed.

Wendy was still grinning stupidly when a cheesy jingle played and screen flashed to a red and white background. “Breaking news,” Wendy read around, smile never leaving her face. She tilted her head back into Irene’s lap, looking up to meet her eyes. “Bets it’s us?”

Irene’s one-sided smirk only showed a tiny glint of teeth, and Wendy would’ve smiled wider, if she could. “It’s been days, I’m old news now,” she shot back. “My bet is it’s you.”

Wendy laughed, turning her focus back to the screen. “Doubt it. No one’s seen a criminal as pretty as you,” she said, over immediate protests of _shut up, Seungwan-ah_ , and more gentle laughter.

The screen used a tacky slideshow transition to a talking reporter and a disgruntled man, and, “See! It’s that old man, this one’s all you!” Irene exclaimed.

They both missed the description of the crime and suspect, but they watched as he stared directly into the camera, pointing his finger at the lens like a stern parent. “I hope you know that you’re just a dirty, petty thief,” the man spat. A slightly out-of-focus reporter shifted uncomfortably in the background.

Wendy grinned at Irene again, her eyes twinkling. “I’m just good with my hands,” she corrected, throwing a wink back at Irene--who, in response, scowled, and pushed Wendy’s head off her lap. “Come on, I really think I have a knack for this!”

Sitting back, Irene snorted. “What, sleeping with strangers?”

“ _No_ ,” she explained, smugly, “ _almost_ sleeping with strangers, and then taking their money instead. This is great!”

“So you’ve found your calling? Miss Seductress Son Seungwan, wanted for assault and robbery in three states?”

Wendy jutted out her bottom lip, shrugging a shoulder. She tossed her arms out against the bed, taking up as much room as possible with her small stature. “It’s larceny, not robbery, which has a nicer ring to it anyway, doesn’t it? And what about you? Irene, the beautiful felon, criminal mastermind?” Her smile slipped, but she couldn’t stop the rest of the words from tumbling out of her mouth. “Bae Joohyun, wanted for murder?”

The television chattered on beside them, neither of them still watching the local reporter ramble on about where and how to call in with anonymous tips. “It’s not really funny, is it?”

“Not really,” Wendy agreed, “it’s not.”

Against the creaking frame of the bed, Irene still had a smile on her face, but it didn’t quite reach her eyes. “I don’t think I recognize who we are anymore.”

“Maybe this is who we’ve could have been, if things had been different,” and Irene thought that Wendy wasn’t talking about the police or murder at all, given the context.

Her hands found their way back into Wendy’s hair, fingers automatically running through the locks like they were made to do that, and nothing else. “Maybe,” Irene echoed, because maybe she wasn’t talking about the police or murder, either.

 

* * *

  

Irene had countless questions coming and going through her mind for each mile they drove through; some of them getting answers, most of them not. Her focus became narrow, encompassing two things: continuing to move, because running was all she knew, now; and two, Son Seungwan. This country had become a ball and chain, and the longer they drove, the more Wendy kept her from falling completely to insanity, or worse—giving up the chase.

They needed to know whether the authorities were hot on their heels, or if they had finally led them astray—and so Irene did something she knew she was good at. She took a gamble.

“Put me through to Kang Seulgi.”

The operator had a slight southern accent, presenting itself almost comically through the tinny quality of the payphone. “Excuse me--”

She sighed. “It’s Bae Joohyun. Put me through to Kang Seulgi.” With a roll of her eyes, and added, “If you wouldn’t mind.”

The operator was pointedly silent for a second before saying, “Right. Sure thing. One moment, please,” as if it were any other regular call to the police station back home. The telephone box was uncomfortably warm, some surprisingly insulatory quality to the cracked glass panes, and looked like it hadn’t been used in years--frankly, maybe it hadn’t. A week ago, Irene might have cared about putting the dusty, rusted phone to her ear.

“Joohyun,” crackled Seulgi’s voice, surprise evident. She sounded genuinely surprised, and Irene found some joy in that. “Where are you two?”

Irene put her free hand up to shield her eyes from the sun, squinting at the barren red rock landscape, a desert without an oasis. A grin, and, “Sure is snowy out here. Are we on a first-name basis now? Can I call you Seulgi?”

“You’re not charged with murder yet,” Seulgi said instead, and she sounded--concerned? “Running makes you look worse. It’s--well, you know. It’s difficult, like that. Now you’re armed and dangerous, and the protocol for taking you in is entirely different. If you hadn’t done anything, why are you running?”

Irene shook her head, as if Seulgi could see her through the phone. “You’re going to put me in front of a crowd of people who don’t understand, and someone will be saying things like ‘lifetime in prison,’ and ‘without parole…’”

“Please, Joohyun. I don’t want to let anyone use force on you and Seungwan. Come back. We can talk about this.”

Seulgi was good at avoiding the words, but Joohyun knew what she was getting at. “Officer, with all due respect, if you’re asking me whether I’d rather be caught dead or alive, really, I...” She swallowed thickly, glancing through the dirty glass to the humble storefront. It must have been the only mart in this tiny town. Wendy stood, waving back at a small child who had run ahead of his parents. As if she felt Irene’s eyes on her, she met the gaze with her hand still half in the air, raising her brows with a questioning smile.

“I don’t know,” Irene said, softly. “I’ll have to get back to you on that.”

To her credit, Seulgi said nothing for a few moments, the line rustling as Irene shifted positions. “It doesn’t have to be like this,” came Seulgi’s tone, gentler and kinder than before. “Joohyun--”

Irene hung up the phone.

 

* * *

 

“Hey,” came Wendy’s voice on another nondescript highway as she turned down the radio volume. “Think those are for us?”

Irene’s eyes followed to where Wendy pointed, a trio of police cars headed in the opposite direction down the road. The sirens were on, though, and whatever the call was, it needed _three_ cops.

“They’re going the wrong way if they are,” she said, antsy at the blue and red nonetheless. “Still, let’s pull off the road.”

“Just in case,” Wendy agreed, and Irene braced herself for the jolt of leaving the asphalt and hitting dirt. “I’ve been thinking,” Wendy added, one hand on the gear shift, the other resting on the steering wheel.

Irene raised her brows in the silence that followed. The car went up a small ridge and over it, and Wendy aligned the car to continue to run parallel to the highway. “Well, congratulations.”

She wasn’t looking, but she was certain an eye roll was offered as a response. “No, I’ve really been thinking--we could be good at this stuff, you know?”

The sun visor wasn’t long enough to block the sun from Irene’s eyes, but she slipped off her sunglasses anyway. “What?”

“Living on the road like this. On the run. It’s crazy, I know, but this is the most free I think I’ve felt in a long time. Maybe ever.”

Irene--for her part--hadn’t given much thought to this impenetrable ‘future.’ Frankly, she hadn’t much planned on seeing it.

“If you’re just saying this to make me feel better about shooting a man in the parking lot of a bar, don’t. None of this was your fault,” Irene sighed, words rattling on for the umpteenth time. “It never was your fault.”

“I’m absolutely serious this time, Joohyun. Haven’t you wondered what happens? If we make it?”

“ _If_ \--if we make it, Seungwan.” It was hot out, she was tired, and Irene knew this conversation was bound to happen eventually. They might as well have it now. She turned in her seat to face Wendy. “You have something to go back to. A husband. A home. A life.”

“A loveless marriage I can’t escape, and a house literally falling apart at the cracks,” Wendy laughed, acid on her tongue. “Maybe you’ve never felt so trapped like that. You’ve always known what you’ve wanted, I guess.”

Irene was taken aback by the sharpness.

Wendy was blinking rapidly, eyes glued forward. “All this time, and you’ve had no idea?”

“Seungwan, you can’t throw away your life for—this,” she said, a hint of desperation creeping in. _For me_ , she had almost let slip, and _god,_ was there irony in the fact that they still held secrets from each other.

Wendy let the car roll to a slow stop in the middle of nowhere, red sand and dust kicking up around the tires. The sun blazed down on them, flat, barren earth stretching ahead and behind them for miles on end. There wasn’t another sign of life in sight.

“Years,” Wendy said. Her throat constricted, and she squeezed her eyes shut. “I’ve--I’ve been in love with you for years, Joohyun, you know. Maybe you don’t know. Maybe you’re horrified by that. Or maybe you’ve known all this time, and maybe we could—maybe we can make it work. I don’t know. I don’t know anything anymore. I feel like I’ve thought about this for a lifetime, and yet the only thing I know for sure is that I’m not throwing away my life if it’s with you.”

“Seungwan,” Irene started, but her voice caught in her throat.

“Don’t tell me it’ll be okay. Just… don’t.” Wendy let out a long breath, wiping a smudge of dirt off her cheek with the back of her hand. A gentle breeze picked up, and it was almost comedic that a tumbleweed blew across the road. “Okay, that was the fun emotional breakdown of the day. Great, we can check that off the to-do list. We should keep moving,” she said into the silence, hand on the gearshift again.

“Wait,” Irene murmured, haltingly wetting her handkerchief with one of their water bottles, pulling Wendy’s chin toward her with one hand.

“Please don’t,” Wendy whispered, closing her eyes. She took a jagged breath when the cloth touched her cheek, and Irene could hear a heart break, but she couldn’t have said whose it was. “Joohyu—”

Irene leaned forward and closed the gap between them, letting the seatbelt dig into her shoulder as she kissed Wendy the way she had never let herself think about. One hand still clutched the damp cloth against Wendy’s cheek, the other pulling her in.

It would have been easier to pull away, apologize for her sudden, reckless action, pretend it never happened—if Wendy wasn’t kissing her back the way that she was.

“You couldn’t have done that years ago?” Wendy murmured against her lips when they parted, and Irene choked out a laugh to stop her tears from escaping.

It was exhilarating and wonderful and heart-wrenching and terrifying all at once, and it was full of _whys_ and _whens_ , and _what-ifs_ and _what-nows._

“You’re right,” Irene finally echoed, a little breathless and a lot reeling at the implications. Her heart was beating so fast, she could feel it in her fingertips. So much for _uncomplicated_. “We should keep driving.”

Silently, Wendy wiped one of Irene’s stray tears away, and put the car back into drive.

 

* * *

 

When the ground inclined for the first time in what felt like centuries and their car began to climb the one hill for miles, Irene swore.

Wendy had already been looking at Irene--and she had been, for a while--and she followed her eyes to the rearview mirror. And then she swore, too.

“Now _those_ are for us,” Irene murmured, five pairs of headlights right under a sea of red and blue, and approaching, quickly. “What do you think?”

Wendy said her words slowly, savoring them, in case they were the last thing she ever said. “I think we’re about to go on a high-speed chase, Joohyun.”

“I love the way you think,” Irene said, shifting to a higher gear.

And Wendy replied, far more chipper than the scene asked of her, “As if that’s the only thing you love about me,” because at this point, what did she have to lose but her life?

“That’s true,” Irene conceded, foot laying down steadily on the acceleration. “There’s a lot to love about you.”

“Why didn’t we have this conversation hours ago, when there wasn’t an imminent danger and five cops trailing us?” Wendy was yelling at this point, voice barely heard over the sound of the engine.

Irene let herself grin a little, shouting back. “Think Seulgi’s gonna buy our cheap love story?” The speedometer was far into the red zone, and the road hadn’t been paved over in decades. Wendy could hear the sirens getting louder, the multiple sirens turning into a drone as they got out of sync.  
“Not cheap if it’s true,” Wendy pointed out, grabbing the door to brace herself. “Hey,” she continued, still shouting. “Do you think we’ve totally lost it?”

Irene’s grin was full-blown at this point. “Absolutely,” she said, gunning it down the seemingly infinite road ahead.

 

* * *

 

Seulgi was a good distance behind the five cars, with Henry in her passenger seat. She was shaking her head, one hand on her radio button. “We can make this work! They listen to me--”

Henry scowled. He slammed his hand against the dash. “No, Captain, you _trust_ them. That’s the problem! Innocent people don’t drive like _that_!” His hand had long since left the holster on his side, and instead, held onto the rifle strapped across his chest.

“Lau, I don’t want them dead _,_  I want them in custody. They don’t deserve a felony for this.”

Beside her, Henry was in disbelief. Had the Captain forgotten her brain this morning? “No? Murder does not a criminal make? We don’t have time for this! We have five cars on them and they don’t really look like they’re taking a pit stop anytime soon!”

“You’ll do as I say, Lau. You are _not_ to engage fire.” Pressing the button on her radio, she repeated the command. “You are _not_ to engage fire, do you hear me?”

“Would you rather have them dead or free?” Henry hissed, watching the speed of the chase increase down the straight highway. His brows shot up in the ensuing silence. “Captain, have you lost your mind?”

“Maybe,” she said simply.

 

* * *

 

“Getting kinda tired of this!” Wendy called out, throwing another glance behind them. The cars had gathered into a formation--one car spearheading the chase, and two pairs behind it. Irene had taken a sharp exit right, hoping to get at least one to fall off their tail, to no avail.

Suddenly, she was braking, and Wendy was thrown forward. “Jooyhun, what the _fuck_ \--”

“Are you with me?” Irene asked, voice seeming suddenly very quiet without the roar of the tires. The police cars had pulled around them, forming a large, distant semicircle. A sixth vehicle pulled up in the middle, and the driver’s door was opening. Wendy glanced ahead. There was a deep chasm between the platform they were on and the next, a red archway on the other side.  

 _Could we make that jump? Perhaps_. Wendy’s hand found Irene’s. _Perhaps not._ “Always.”

So Irene slammed the gas pedal, watching red dust kick up behind them as the wheels spun for a second. The car shot forward. “Well, say a prayer,” was the only thing Irene said, right before the tires left the ground. Wendy half expected that to be the last thing she heard, but--a second of tires spinning against only air, a bone-rattling jolt a moment later, and she opened her eyes just in time to see the archway pass above them without a scratch.

A look behind them showed nothing for a few seconds--and _then_ there was that metal screech she had expected to hear. And then one of the police cars had shoved itself against the red rock, and there was canyon on either side for miles. Wendy looked up at the platform, now above them, the Captain and Sergeant watching them with folded arms. Seulgi was shaking her head, and she was already turning around before Wendy looked away.

And, well, Irene just kept driving across the narrow strait ahead, with a disbelieving Wendy in the passenger seat. “Did we just…?”

Irene’s brows raised, visible above the rim of her sunglasses. “Seungwan, I think we may have just made it.”

 

* * *

 

The day Seulgi received a postcard in the mail, well--she wished she could have said she was sorry about the whole situation. Instead, she let out a long, heavy sigh, already imagining the absolute _hoot_ two bartenders across town were going to have when she showed them the card.

 

 

> _Hola from Mexico!_
> 
> _Love, Irene and Wendy_

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks for reading! I haven't been super on top of my other ongoing works, but I hope you enjoyed this one nonetheless. As always, if you wanna chat, I'm on Twitter--hope to talk to you all soon!

**Author's Note:**

> I finally got around to watching Thelma and Louise, and I’ve never loved a film so much. So sue me, I wanted them to get a happy ending. As always, thanks for reading!


End file.
